Ariette
by deztiny78
Summary: An old "friend" of the St. Just's comes to a newly retired Percy seeking his help in freeing their imprisoned family. The prisoner in question is familiar to Percy, but will he do it? Part Four and Five finally up.
1. Chapter One

A/N: Well, it's been a few years since I've even looked at this story. But when someone on The League lit said they finally had a category for our beloved Pimpernel, I figured it was time to dust it off. If you were one of the three people who read it when it first came out, I have made a few revisions. Drop me a line, let me know what you think. At the time I originally finished this, I had begun work on a prequel. I just found the files, and if the feedback is plentiful, it too may make an appearance. Now, on with the show:

Ariette de Mercy stepped out of the carriage and stared in awe at the majestic English manor. Bright torches on the lawn illuminated the night and created a glow that she had seen miles before she had arrived.

Her stomach fluttered with nervous energy. She shook it off, reminding herself of the task at hand. She had to do this! She had not traveled all the way from France to run away frightened. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a well-worn piece of paper. Scrawled on it was:

**Sir Percival Blakeney is the Scarlet Pimpernel**

She put the paper back in her pocket and looked again at the manor. She took a deep breath and marched bravely up the front walk. Her parents and brother had given their lives to the Revolution and she would lose the only family she had left if this Blakeney didn't help her.

To look at her, she was a lovely young woman of twenty-one. She had brown eyes and long, wavy auburn hair that came down to the middle of her back. She was dressed in a simple black traveling dress.

As she waled up to the door, she noticed other carriages. A party, great! No doubt Blakeney was celebrating his escape from near capture, she mused. She reached the front door. She heard laughing and talking coming from inside the house. Ariette grabbed the brass doorknocker and let it fall. Moments later the door opened. A man in a powdered wig and green suit opened the door.

"May I help you Miss?"

Ariette spoke slowly, not wanting to reveal she was French. "Yes, I need to speak to Sir Blakeney, please."

The man looked at her, clearly amused. "Well, Miss, as I am sure you know there is a party going on. Lord Blakeney is otherwise occupied with his guests, but perhaps you can come back . . . . . "

Ariette cut him off. "This is a matter of great importance; I must speak to Sir Blakeney. It's about the Scarlet Pimpernel."

The doorman cocked his brow. "Very well, Miss, please come in." Ariette entered the great hall.

"Wait here. Who shall I say is calling?" She stared at him in silence.

The doorman sighed. "Very well, Miss."

She watched him as he walked into a large room to her right. He walked over to a finely dressed man who she was certain was Blakeney.

Sir Blakeney was tall. He had blonde hair and was very handsome. Ariette shook her head and sighed. So that was the man Marguerite St. Just had landed and gotten Armand and herself out of France.

As the doorman talked to him, Sir Blakeney looked at her, curious. She looked straight at him, refusing to be intimidated. Blakeney said something to the doorman. The doorman nodded and walked back to her.

"Miss, follow me please. Lord Blakeney will meet you in the library." Ariette nodded and followed him. He led her into the large room. He bowed and then left her, alone.

She took in her surroundings. The room was decorated lavishly. It reminded her of the houses she used to work in when she was a child, before the Revolution. She sat down on a comfortable, overstuffed chair.

"Would you mind terribly, if I asked you to move? That is my favorite chair."

It was Blakeney. Silently she stood up.

"Mademoiselle, you know who I am, but alas I don't know who you are."

Ariette smiled smugly. He knew she was French before she had said a word. He was indeed perceptive, but then he was the Scarlet Pimpernel.

"My name is Ariette de Mercy."

He nodded.

"You are perhaps a friend of my wife's?"

"I knew your wife and Armand back in France, yes."

"But you wanted to speak to me?"

"That is correct."

"And why is that?"

"I need your help Sir Blakeney. But I have no desire to continue this charade. I know you are the Scarlet Pimpernel. And I need your help."

Percy was unsure how to react to that. He adopted his foppish facade.

"La, What trajectory! You are amusin'. We all heard that demmed Pimpernel was captured weeks ago!"

Ariette sighed. Was he actually going to deny it? She pulled the paper out of her pocket and handed it to him.

Percy looked at it. He thought he recognized the handwriting. "Where did you get this?"

"Will you help me?"

"I can't. It's all over now."

"Not quite, Sir Blakeney. You and your League have to help me free my friend."

"What is so special about this friend of yours?

"My friend is all I have left. My family gave their lives to the Revolution! My friend took me in when we both had no one. He is all the family I have. And now you owe it to us to help."

Percy stood up. "I owe it to you?"

"Yes. It is because of you, my friend is in jail and will be executed in three weeks!"

"Who exactly is this friend of yours, Mademoiselle de Mercy?"

She walked over to him.

"Chauvelin."

To be continued . . . . . . . .

Feedback is greatly appreciated. The good will be framed, the bad will be used as lining for the kitty litter box. Never mind that I don't actually have a cat. Part two will be up soon.


	2. Chapter Two

_AN: Thanks so much for the comments. I'm glad to see some of you actually like the story. Just to give you a heads up, there are ten parts to this story. I will be posting one part a week. It is finished, so really, it will be posted. Please keep the feedback coming. Now on with the show._

**Part Deux**

Percy stared at her in shock. After all Chauvelin had done, this girl had the gall to come into his home and blame him for Chauvelin's imprisonment! Rescue Chauvelin! This girl asked too much of him.

"Mademoiselle, I will not stand here and be accused of sending a man to prison!"

"Why not? After all, is that not what happened?"

"Chauvelin is evil. He deserves to be in prison."

"His ideal has been twisted into something evil, but he is not. He is a zealot; there's a difference. He believes in a cause that doesn't exist anymore."

Percy shook his head. "Mademoiselle, I can not help you. The Scarlet Pimpernel has retired."

He turned away from her and headed to the door. Ariette panicked. If he left now, she knew he would not help her. She blocked the door.

"The man all of France thinks is the Scarlet Pimpernel is going to be executed in Paris in three weeks. And while you are hundreds of miles away, safe in your big home, Chauvelin rots in a prison! And whether you care to believe it or not, it's your fault!"

"What would you have me do?"

"Perform one of your great rescues!" Ariette moved away from the door. "Please, Sir Blakeney. I know what you think of Chauvelin but he's my family, my home. He saved me. I want to do the same for him now. If you could just see him in that place they call a prison. He doesn't deserve any of it." Ariette was in tears as she whispered, "Please, help me."

Percy handed her his handkerchief. He was astounded that someone believed in his enemy this passionately. What had Chauvelin done to inspire such loyalty? Percy sighed. "I need time to consider this."

"Time is what we don't have. Three weeks."

Percy nodded. "I need to meet with my men. It will take a few days."

"Thank you Sir Blakeney."

"I don't promise you anything."

Without warning, the door flung open and a voice called out, "Percy, come back to the party!" Marguerite walked in. She stopped short and stared in shock at Ariette. She was given a wry smile in return.

"Hello Marguerite."

Marguerite turned to her husband. "What is going on?" Percy took her hand.

"Darling, Mademoiselle de Mercy needs my help."

Marguerite turned back to Ariette, scowling. "With what?"

Percy cleared his throat. "Why don't we go back to the party? We can discuss this later."

Marguerite turned her glare on him. "I am not going anywhere until you tell me what she is doing here."

"Why don't you ask me yourself, Marguerite." Marguerite turned back to the girl. Before she could speak, Ariette continued. "I need your husband's help to free Chauvelin."

Marguerite gaped at her. "Percy, surly you're not . . . . . ."

"I don't know, I need to think about this." A thought occurred to Percy. "You will excuse me for a moment, Mademoiselle de Mercy, I will be back." He turned to his wife. "Darling, will you stay with her, just for a moment?"

"Of course." Marguerite never took her eyes off Ariette.

"I will be back shortly," he told both women. He exited the room, praying they would still be there when he returned. Clearly there was history between them; perhaps Armand could enlighten him.

Marguerite turned away from Ariette and sat down on a chair, serenely. "How have you been?"

Ariette sat down as well. "How do you think?"

"You could have come to England with us. I know Armand would have liked that."

"I have never been one to abandon my home and the people I love, Marguerite."

"The France we left was not our home. Not when they started cutting off heads left and right. That's not the home I knew. And I love Percy! It was an easy decision to leave France."

Ariette shook her head. "Who are you really trying to convince?"

Marguerite stood up and went to the window. She looked out at darkness. "When did you become this cynical little creature of the Revolution? You used to be so sweet. We were friends once, as close as sisters. What happened?"

Ariette stood up and walked over to her. Her voice was quiet. "Things change. I changed, or isn't that obvious?"

"You should have come with us."

"Why?"

"Because Armand . . . . . "

"Enough about Armand! I've changed since then. I can imagine he has too."

Marguerite turned to look at her. "Not as much as you think, Ariette. I believe he still loves you. What about you?"

"To be honest, I haven't thought of him. I have had bigger problems to worry about."

"Of course, Chauvelin."

"He doesn't deserve to be in prison."

"Oh no, and what of all the people he sent to their deaths? Did they deserve that?"

Ariette couldn't answer that. She sat down and glared at her former friend. There was a knock at the door. Percy entered with Armand in tow.

Armand looked at Ariette but said nothing. He turned to go but Percy stopped him. "Armand, why don't you show Mademoiselle de Mercy around."

Marguerite walked over to her husband. "I am not sure that's a good idea," she said softly.

"No, that's all right." Armand told them. He turned to Ariette and held out his hand. "Mademoiselle."

Ariette nodded and took his arm. "Thank you," she said just as quiet.

Silently, they left the library. Percy turned to Marguerite. "Is something wrong?"

"You should not have brought Armand."

"She said she knew him. I assumed they were friends."

Marguerite shook her head. "They were more than friends. Armand was heartbroken when we left France. I wish you had told her to leave."

Percy took her hand. "Don't worry, I feel she won't be here for long."

To be continued . . . . . . . . .

_Part three to follow soon. Feedback is greatly appreciated. For those interested, my livejournal username is colettebronte_.


	3. Chapter Three

_A/N: Well, here the new chapter is, a bit late, but it's here, nonetheless. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy it._

Part Tres

The rest of the evening had proven uneventful. Walking among the guests together was uncomfortable for both Ariette and Armand. Neither one knew what to say, so nothing was said. Luckily, one of servants, on Percy's bidding, took Ariette from the party, and led her to the manor's finest guest bedroom. Finally feeling the full weight of her journey from Paris to England, she promptly collapsed on the fine bed and fell asleep.

* * *

It had now been two days since Ariette had come into the Blakeney home. She received a note with her breakfast, from Sir Blakeney, informing her that he was meeting with his men that morning. 

After breakfast, she dressed and went downstairs to the library. When she got to the door, she heard the men inside, arguing. She opened the door slightly and listened.

"Percy, I can not believe you are seriously considering this!"

"I say old boy; you have gone mad!"

"To honestly think we would risk our lives to save Chauvelin!"

"Who is to say this demmed girl won't turn us in the moment we set foot in Paris!"

"If you do go through with this venture, count me out!"

"Enough!" Percy told them. "I never said I was going to do this. I simply wanted to ask what you all thought."

All the men were gathered around Percy, their backs to the door. Ariette silently entered the room. "And what have you decided to do, Sir Blakeney?" she asked calmly.

The men turned to face her, scowling. She had not expected anything less. She walked over to them and sat down serenely on an empty chair. "Well?"

"Why should we trust you?" Farleigh asked her. "Who is to say you won't turn us in?"

Ariette nodded. "You are right, of course. I could turn you all in."

Farleigh turned to Percy. "Are you hearing this?"

Ariette stood up. "I said I could turn you in. I could, but I won't. Even if I did, Robespierre would still execute Chauvelin. No, I need your help to rescue him."

Percy walked over to her. "Not one of these men is willing to risk their lives for Chauvelin. I am inclined to agree with them."

Ariette nodded. "Then I have a suggestion. Come to Paris. I want you to see the place they are keeping Chauvelin in. See him first, then make your decision. Please."

Dewhurst shook his head. "I am not willing to go to France only to have an army waiting in Calais to capture us. There is not a man here who trusts you, Mademoiselle."

"I do."

It was Armand. Until then, he had been silent. Everyone turned around to face him. "I trust Ariette," he told them. Looking into their faces he could see he had to offer them an explanation. He cleared his throat nervously, and then continued, "I have known her all my life. She was my dearest and most trusted friend. She was the one person who could be relied on to tell the truth, no matter what the cost." Percy's face softened but the rest of The League seemed unmoved. Ariette's face was unreadable. Dewhurst shook his head.

"That was years ago. Can you honestly say she is the same person she was then?" Armand started to walk over to her. Unnerved, Ariette started to back away slowly. Armand abruptly stopped and turned back to the men.

"It is true, that much has changed. But I know, at heart, she is still the same. And I say it again, I trust her." Behind Armand's back, something seemed to break in Ariette's eyes. Almost instantly; it was replaced by a cool complacency, as if it had not been there. It was missed by all, but Percy.

Percy turned to the other men. "Well, what do we do boys? Should we go to Paris and then make our decision?"

Dewhurst sighed. "I will go along with whatever you decide." The rest of the men agreed.

Percy turned to Ariette and then looked back at his men. "Bring your disguises, boys. We set sail for France in two days!"

* * *

The following afternoon, Percy and Marguerite were touring the gardens. 

"How long have you known her?" Percy asked his wife. Marguerite turned to him, knowing to whom he referred.

"Since she was a child." She smiled wryly as a thought occurred to her.

"What is it?" Percy asked.

"I was just thinking, that if certain sad events had not happened the way they did, I would have been Madame Mercy instead of Lady Blakeney."

"How is that?"

"Years ago, before the Revolution, I was engaged to Ariette's brother, Robért."

"I thought she did not have any family."

"She doesn't. They were all killed."

"How?" Percy asked her. They sat down on a bench.

It was in '89 just before it all started. Her parents, Antonin and Camille, were good friends with Chauvelin, and Armand and I. They were a family to us. They were such good people." Marguerite voice started to waiver. Percy put his arms around her.

"I am sorry, darling. If you don't want to talk about this . . . . ."

"No, it's all right," After a moment, Marguerite continued. "Chauvelin was organizing a march of the people. Ariette was fifteen then, and her parents and Robért felt she was far too young, so she stayed back with Armand and I. The gendarmes were out in full force, they were still loyal to Louis then. Her family was in front, leading the march. They were among the first to be killed."

"My God, the poor girl. But how did she end up with Chauvelin?"

"He felt guilty. She became his ward."

"How is it that I never heard of her until now."

"I never mentioned her because of Armand. Chauvelin has always been protective of her. I believe he just wanted to keep her safe. If none of his enemies knew of her, she would not be harmed, no matter what was done to him." Percy looked at his wife, guiltily. Marguerite shook her head. "Darling, I will say it again, his being in prison is not your doing! He brought it upon himself. He set the events in motion."

"Yes, but if I had known about the girl . . . ." Marguerite shook her head.

"All would have been forgiven?" Percy sighed.

"I don't know. He just does not seem to be the man I thought I knew." Marguerite took his arm.

"I know the feeling, my darling."

"You think us similar creatures then?" Marguerite scoffed at that.

"Certainly not Percy! You are two very different men."

"Are we now? We both kept secrets to protect those we love" To that however, Marguerite had no retort.

They stood up and headed back into the house. Marguerite held him tighter. "Percy, you will be careful."

"La! The Scarlet Pimpernel is always careful."

She shook her head. "Percy . . . . ." He kissed her on the cheek.

"Don't worry. I will return to you as soon as I can, and yes, I shall be very careful.

* * *

Just after sunrise the following day, The Day Dream set sail for the port in Calais. Percy was leaning against the railing at the bow, making adjustments on his disguise. Ariette walked over to him. 

"Thank you for doing this, Sir Blakeney."

"I have not done anything yet, Mademoiselle." Ariette leaned against the railing and looked out at the sea. She stared at the water for a moment and then turned to look at him.

"Not yet but I do believe you will."

To be continued . . . . . . .

_Part four to come soon. As always feedback is greatly appreciated, and may make the next chapter appear sooner. For those interested, my username on live journal is: colettebronte_


	4. Chapter Four

_A/N: First of all, I apologize for not updating sooner. I started a new job and then the holidays came up, and blah blah blah. Thanks so much to the people who have stayed with the story so far and enjoyed it. I really do appreciate all the feedback. I have to say everyone's criticism has been very constructive. And I realize I was unclear on many points when I first posted this story. I will be going back at some point and redoing the author's note to the first part. _

_This story was originally written in 1997, when my experience with our dear Pimpernel was limited to just the musical and the first novel. I have of course since then, read many of the books, including as has been pointed out, my favorite El Dorado. So yes, I am aware of Armand and Jeanne. This story is meant to take place just after the first book, and obviously incorporates the musical's ending. I have edited this story substantially. Will it incorporate future Pimpernel events? Well, you'll just have to read on to see. ;) Please keep the reviews coming, they are immensly helpful. Now, back to the regularly __scheduled fanfic!

* * *

_

Part Four

It was close to midnight when the Day Dream pulled into the port at Calais. The men cautiously exited the boat. The port was empty except for the usual assortment of drunken fishermen.

Percy turned to the men. "Go the usual place. I shall meet you there later. I will accompany Mademoiselle Mercy to her home." Dewhurst shook his head.

"Percy, perhaps someone else should go with you just in case . . . . . . ." Ariette eyed him angrily.

"In case of what? Do you honestly think that I would turn him in?"

"As a matter of fact Mademoiselle, that is precisely what I believe." Dewhurst told her.

"Enough!" Percy told the pair. "Armand shall accompany us to Mademoiselle Mercy's home." He turned to Dewhurst. "Satisfied?" Dewhurst nodded.

The disguises Armand and Percy wore proved to be ingenious. Soldiers rarely stopped the trio. And even when they did, the soldiers checked only Ariette's papers. They were not suspicious of the priests that accompanied her.

It was close to five a.m. when they reached her flat. She had just put her key in the door, when a soldier approached them.

"Are you Citizen Ariette de Mercy?" He asked gruffly. Armand and Ariette jumped. Percy clutched his sword underneath his robe. Ariette turned around calmly.

"Can I help you with something, Citizen?" The soldier looked at the group with a cautious eye.

"You are traveling quite early this morning, aren't you?"

"Is it any of your concern?" Ariette asked.

"It is the concern of Citizen Robespierre." Ariette walked over to him.

"What does he want with me?" The soldier pulled a paper out of his jacket. He held it up and began to read.

"By the orders of Citizen Robespierre, you are to have dinner with him this evening. Promptly at six. A carriage will be sent for you at five-thirty." Ariette narrowed her eyes at the soldier.

"Will I be returning here or should I prepare to spend some time at The Bastille?" The soldier snickered.

"That is for Citizen Robespierre to decide." He laughed as he walked away.

"This is just wonderful!" Ariette muttered. Percy turned to her.

"Armand will stay here with you until you leave. I must meet with the others."

"What should I do about tonight?"she asked him. Percy smiled.

"You have to go of course. Don't worry. I have a plan!" With that, Percy was off, leaving two confused souls in his wake.

* * *

It was five o'clock that evening. Ariette sat at a small table in her kitchen whileArmand kept watch at the window.He softly cleared his throat. The hours of silence between them had finally become unbearable to him. 

"What happened to Chauvelin's house? That was a palace compared to this." Ariette looked at him amused.

"What do you suppose happened when he was sent to prison? The Republic, or rather Robespierre, claimed his house and most of his possessions. I sold most of what I had just to purchase this place and buy passage to England."

"How is it that you weren't sent to prison?"

"That is a good question. I still haven't figured that out yet." Armand turned around to face her.

"I want to ask you something," he said nervously. Ariette suspected what was coming.

"Armand, I'm not in the mood to . . . ."

"Why didn't you come with us to England?"

"Please, I have to get ready."

"Just tell me. I won't say anything else about it. Please."

"All right,"she sighed. Armand sat down at the table.

"I didn't go with you because of Chauvelin." Armand narrowed his eyes.

"Chauvelin? Are you and he . . . .?"

"What? No! Armand!"

"Then why?"

"When my parents and Robért died, Chauvelin became my family, you know that. When you asked me to go with you, I had to choose between the boy I loved and the only family I had left." Armand looked confused. She took his hand. "If I asked you then to choose between Marguerite and me who would you have picked?" Armand took a deep breath and thought for a moment. His voice was soft as he spoke.

"I would have been torn to pieces trying to decide, but after a long debate I would have chosen Marguerite." Ariette nodded. He pulled his hand away and looked at his pocket watch. "You should get ready." She nodded and stood up. She headed for the door. "Wait!" He called to her. Ariette turned around. "Just one more thing, I have to ask about this."

"Yes?"

"You just said you loved me back then. How do you feel about me now?" Ariette looked at him, pained. What could she say? One thing came to mind.

"I . . . I need to get ready." She turned and fled the room.

_To be continued . . . ._

_Part 5 shall be here forthwith. Much sooner than it took me this time to update, I promise._


	5. Chapter Five

_A/N: Well, I did say I would update faster than I did before. No major notes here just enjoy!

* * *

_

Part 5

The carriage let Ariette off in front of the Palais de Justice. She surveyed the daunting building Robespierre called home. She had been there many times with Chauvelin. But she knew this time was different and she was a little afraid. Why hadn't Sir Blakeney told her what he had planned? She pondered this as several minutes passed before a guard came to escort her inside.

* * *

The guard led her into the dining hall. Robespierre sat ata long, lavishly decorated table.When she entered the room, he stood up. As she sat down opposite him, Robespierre did the same.

An elderly servant came over and filled her wineglass. Ariette nodded to him in thanks. He went and filled Robespierre's glass, and then hobbled back into the kitchen.

"Welcome back to Paris, Citizen." Robespierre said to her. "And tell me, how is England this time of year?" Ariette took a swig of her wine.

"What makes you think I went to England?" He shook his head.

"Come now, do you honestly think I don't have ways of finding these things out? It is true that you were cleared of all charges of treason but that doesn't mean I trust you. I had you followed to Calais. I know you boarded a ship heading to England."

The servant came back out of the kitchen. He handed them folded cards. "That is this evening's menu." He cackled.

Ariette opened her menu. A wry smile played over her lips. In the top, right hand corner of her menu was the seal of The Scarlet Pimpernel. She ripped off the seal and nonchalantly placed it in her bodice. She looked over at the old servant. He winked at her. She held up her wineglass.

"Sir Blakeney?" She whispered as he poured.

"No, Dewhurst," he whispered back. Ariette narrowed her eyes.

"I thought you didn't trust me."

"I don't, that is why I am here."

"More wine!" Robespierre bellowed. Dewhurst shuffled over to him. Ariette looked over at the French leader.

"Why did you summon me here? You may have enjoyed my company in the past, but I refuse to believe this is meant to be a simple meal between old friends." Robespierre looked at her, amused. She asked quietly, "Are you going to arrest me?" He shook his head.

"Nothing so melodramatic, I assure you. I am simply revoking your travel papers. You can no longer leave Paris, let alone France. You should have stayed in England while you had the chance, my dear." Ariette felt ill, this was not good. She took a large gulp of her wine.

When the salad arrived, Robespierre started to talk again.

"Why did you return to France?"

"I could not stay in England while Chauvelin rots in the Bastille." Robespierre buttered his bread. He smiled casually and then shook his head.

"Your precious Pimpernel is no longer in the Bastille." Ariette narrowed her eyes.

"You moved him? Where?" Robespierre laughed maniacally and then started to cough.

"Do you honestly think I would tell you where he is?" She thought for a moment and then shook her head.

"There is no need. I have a fair idea."

"Yes well, I was afraid that the Pimpernel's friends would try to get him out of the Bastille so I had him moved." Ariette had lost her appetite.

"He is not the Scarlet Pimpernel," she seethed. Robespierre sighed.

"You have said that many times during the past few weeks. And yet, you have shown me no proof. We found his damn ring and papers on him!"

Ariette glared at him. She reached into her bodice and pulled out the seal she had ripped off. Proof, he wanted! She could give it to him! It would be so easy. She could hand him the seal and the paper Chauvelin had given her. It would be so easy to walk over to Dewhurst and rip off his costume.

Dewhurst turned to her. He glared at her as if he knew what she was thinking. She stared back at him. Robespierre looked at them both.

"Is something wrong?"Robespierreasked her. The Leaguer stared back at her, fearful. But Ariette sighed inwardly. She could not allow her anger to take precedence over the task at hand. Too much was at stake.

"You may take my salad." She told Dewhurst, calmly. He nodded. She stood up. "Is there anything else you require from me other than my travel papers?" she asked Robespierre. He shook his head. "Then I pray you excuse me." He nodded his acquiescence.

"Have a good evening!" he called to her as she fled.

* * *

Ariette climbed into the first carriage to stop. Waiting inside was Dewhurst. Though he was no longer in his makeup, he was still dressed as the old servant. She sat opposite him. He signaledthe driver to depart.

"For a moment, I thought you were going to turn me in." he said to her.

"I did entertain the idea, but it would have been a foolish thing to do." Dewhurst nodded his agreement. He moved to sit beside her.

"Mademoiselle, I want to apologize," he told her. "I am now absolutely certain of where your loyalties are. I do hope you will forgive my doubting you." He took her hand and kissed it. "Now, onto the task at hand. You said you know where Chauvelin is being kept."

"Yes. I am certain he is being kept in a place called The Hole."

"The Hole?"

"Yes."

"And can you get in?"

"I believe so. But it will cost a fair sum. I will have to bribe a guard." Dewhurst pulled out a pouch and handed it to her.

"There is one hundred francs in there. Will that suffice?" She nodded at him, as she secured the pouch well within her cloak. He continued, "Could you do it tomorrow?"

"I can make the arrangements tomorrow. I can get one other person and myself in the day after tomorrow. But how can I explainhis presence with me?" Dewhurst thought for a moment and smiled.

"A priest! Say that you wish to bring one with you so that Chauvelin can confess his sins before death." Ariette nodded in agreement.

"Of course! It's perfect."

"Excellent! Sir Percy will come to you the day after tomorrow, in the morning."

"The day after tomorrow," she repeated. Dewhurst nodded. "The day after tomorrow is Sunday," she told him. "That will mean there are just two more weeks until Chauvelin's execution.

_to be continued . . . . . ._

_F is for feedback; it's good enough for me. Halfway done! Part 6 will be coming soon. And finally, Chauvelin will make an appearance._


End file.
